


just say the word and we'll take on the world

by besidemethewholedamntime



Series: at the end of the day all i need is you [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Humour, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern Royalty AU, Unplanned Pregnancy-ish, no angst i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besidemethewholedamntime/pseuds/besidemethewholedamntime
Summary: "Cautiously, he peers over the edge of the sink and feels his heart stop when he sees what’s inside. He almost wishes for the body in the bathtub. He feels like he could deal with that, was almost prepared for it.What he was not prepared for was the sight of a pregnancy test sitting in it, the pink plus sign in stark contrast to the white porcelain around it."There's a bit of an unexpected complication to an already complicated situation. Part of my modern royalty AU.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: at the end of the day all i need is you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934755
Comments: 44
Kudos: 84





	1. just say the word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthedotcom (omgfitzsimmons)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgfitzsimmons/gifts).



> when your 21st is in complete lockdown what else is there to do but post a fic, am i right? 
> 
> In all seriousness, this is actually a very very (very!) belated birthday gift for my wonderful friend Ruth! I'm sorry it took me so long but I hope you like it! You're such a dear friend to me and I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Thank you for being your wonderful self! 
> 
> This is part of my Modern Royalty AU and I'm really sorry but you'll probably have to have read at least one other part before this one! In the series timeline, it comes after the last one 'this love, it is a distant star'. This one's also split into 2 parts just to make it a little bit easier to read, and the next part will be posted tomorrow so don't worry!
> 
> I've also made a little spotify playlist for this series, which can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4cUCoSa72qOkLshfy1pbdF?si=jnxATQ8aSXWTJvWdpY-3fg). 
> 
> The title is from 'Take On The World' by You Me At Six. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

The phone call comes at thirty-three minutes past eleven.

“Fitz,” her voice says down the line, slightly breathless, “are you busy?”

He has to hold his phone up by his shoulder as he juggles with different folders, the din of the office around him making it hard to hear. “Eh, yeah, a bit. Got a lot of work all of a sudden. How come?”

“I… I need to see you.”

He hears something different and says, “I want to see you too, Jemma, but you know how it is.” He checks his watch. “I might be able to get out of here by four. I can come see you then.”

“No, you didn’t hear me. I _need_ to see you. _Now_.”

His heart begins to hammer uncomfortably in his chest. It does so awfully easily now, ever since that day those few months ago where he got another phone call. Without meaning to he checks the television playing in the corner, but there’s no breaking news banner today. On the antiques programme, someone has just sold a pair of china ornaments for £17.

He shoves the folders down on a desk, uncaring of whose it is or the fact that they all immediately slide off one another. Striding through the office, everyone magically moving out of his way, he gets into the corridor, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it?” He says immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Jemma inhales shakily on the line, a sign that she’s close to tears but trying desperately not to let them fall. “There’s a problem, Fitz.”

“Okay.” His own voice is shaky now, and he has to fight the urge to be sick. “What sort of problem?”

There are a multitude of possibilities running through his head. Problems with her injuries? Problems with her family? Problems between them? The list is endless, and the words spin around and around in his head, making it hard to concentrate on anything.

“I can’t explain it over the phone. I need to see you.” And then in a very small voice she adds, “ _please_.”

Fitz starts planning his excuses in his head. “Okay, alright. Yeah. I’ll leave now. Can you get to my flat?”

There’s a sniff and then a forlorn, “I can’t go out, not today. You need to come here.”

All the blood in his body freezes in this instant. Jemma never invites him to the palace if she can help it. Too many prying eyes there, too many whispering voices. He goes to the gardens and the grounds quite a bit but that’s usually his lot, and even then they’re only really possible during the warmer months. It’s well into October now. Those days of adventuring are almost gone.

“Jemma,” he says, low and quiet over the sound of his hammering heart. “What’s wrong?”

There’s in inhale and he waits with baited breath though he knows she won’t tell him just now. She’s already said she won’t. “Just come quickly,” is what she says instead. “Everybody is out today. It’s just you and me.”

_Just you and me._ Words that usually bring comfort but instead make him terribly afraid. “Okay,” he says, breathless. He looks at his watch. “I can be there in uh, in about half an hour? Is that alright?”

“Perfect,” she breathes, as though it’s a relief. “Thank you, Fitz.”

He’s already running back through the office, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “Yeah, of course. Always.”

-x-

Jemma’s waiting for him at their gate, which is another sign that something is seriously wrong. She never waits for him at the gate. It’s one thing for him to be seen entering the palace, it’s quite another for them to be seen together. The paparazzi would have a field day – he can just see a slightly blurry photo of the two of them splashed across every trashy tabloid website, a garish headline above it proclaiming something like _Mystery Lover!_ or _Secret Palace Romance?!_ Something not very good but enough to get the public intrigued. He shudders at the thought of it, and usually Jemma would never even tempt them.

Today, however, she had decided it is worth the risk.

“Hey, Jemma, I-”

“Come on, Fitz,” she says, and grabs his hand, not letting him finish. She turns and begins to walk quickly, giving him no choice but to follow.

They walk inside and up several flights of stairs, along several corridors – main corridors, too, not the servants’ ones that she usually requests for him to use. Today Jemma doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything she usually is, and it’s a day he thought he would celebrate, a day he thought he would react to with elation. Instead there is an icy hand squeezing his heart, and he’s wondering what on earth could be so wrong that Jemma’s worst fears don’t seem to matter to her anymore.

When they get to her room she pulls him in with slightly more force than he deems necessary and then quickly lets him go to slam the door behind them.

“What is it?” He says once he has his bearings back. “Can you please tell me now what’s going on?”

“Look in there,” she requests, pointing to her bathroom.

“Wha-”

“Just look, Fitz.”

He gives her a puzzled look but does as she asks. From the tone in her voice he expects to see a body lying in her bathtub, or a stash of illegal drugs sitting on the toilet seat. He expects anything but the very normal (luxurious as always, but normal for her) bathroom that seemingly houses nothing untoward.

Standing in the doorway, he looks over his shoulder to where Jemma stands with her arms crossed. “What is-”

“In the sink.”

Cautiously, he peers over the edge of the sink and feels his heart stop when he sees what’s inside. He almost wishes for the body in the bathtub. He feels like he could deal with that, was almost prepared for it.

What he was not prepared for was the sight of a pregnancy test sitting in it, the pink plus sign in stark contrast to the white porcelain around it.

“Oh,” he says, and before he can stop himself he’s turning around and asking, “Is this yours?”

Jemma just gives him a distinctly unimpressed look, and he can feel the tips of his ears begin to tingle. “Right, yeah. Sorry. Stupid question. I just…” he blows out a breath. “Wow.”

“Yes,” Jemma says flatly. “It was quite a shock.”

His brain is simultaneously running a marathon and standing completely still. He’s torn between fear and elation, an overwhelming desire to embrace the latter, which he would do if it weren’t for the look on Jemma’s face, the tone of her voice.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He says after a minute, voice a hoarse whisper that he didn’t intend. However he might have imagined today going, it certainly wasn’t like this.

Jemma wrings her hands together. “We might be.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “We _might_ be?”

She winces. “Well, you see, the test is just, well it’s just a little bit old.”

There are many questions, but the first one he goes with is, “Just how old, exactly?”

She bites her lip, a tell-tale sign that she really doesn’t want to give him the answer. “Well… do you remember when I was having a slight thing with the Duke of Essex?”

Today _really_ isn’t going the way he thought it would. He remembers the Duke of Essex. Jemma’s boyfriend for approximately five months. A slimy creature who thought his money and his title made up for the fact that he didn’t have any redeemable personal quality whatsoever. Fitz has never liked him, and after Jemma had finally broken things off, he has never had qualms about saying so.

“That was five years ago!” He exclaims, before realising he shouldn’t. “Are you telling me that you seriously thought you were pregnant back then and you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course not, Fitz,” she says, as though he’s the one being ridiculous. “There was a little scare, that’s all. It was hardly worth mentioning. I know you wouldn’t have approved.”

“Hardly worth-” He’s unable to believe his ears. “You still should’ve said something.”

“What was the point? It would just have upset you.”

“I was your best friend, Jemma. Kinda seems like something that you tell your best friend.”

“Oh, don’t start that with me. You were so preoccupied with his massive ego-”

“He was an arsehole and you couldn’t see it because you just wanted-”

“-said that he was _so English-”_

“-called me a haggis muncher, Jemma, as if that was the best insult he’d ever heard-”

“-hardly the point-”

“Then what is the point?!”

“The point is,” she shouts, and then takes a deep breath. “The point is that I’m sorry for not telling you, the Duke of Essex is a horrible man, this pregnancy test is many years past its expiry date and we need to source another to find out if we really are having a baby or not.”

It hits him for the first time, all of the different words coming together at once. _If we really are having a baby or not._ He doesn’t know that he thinks and so he does as he always does in times of crisis; he turns to her.

“What do you think about it?”

“Don’t ask me that,” she says quickly, holding up a hand. “Just let us sort this out first.”

He recognises this Jemma. Deal with the issue at hand and then focus on whatever results from that. He feels a lot better now that he knows where they stand.

“Okay. Yeah, we can do that.” He nods, swallowing audibly. “We just need to get you another test. Not that hard. I’ll go and get one and-”

“No!” Jemma shouts, grabbing his arm as though he were about to dash out the door right this very second. “You can’t go.”

“Ow,” he yelps. “Why not?”

“People know who you are. They know you’re connected to me somehow. One thing will lead to another and it’ll be all over the Daily Mail before we can do anything about it.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, thinking she’s taking some mental leaps but not about to fight her on it. She would know better than he what would land her on the front page of the tabloids. He rubs his arm. “Well what about asking one of the staff to get it for you?”

She gives him a cold look. “Absolutely not. I’m not becoming staff gossip, especially when all gossip pertaining to me ends up back to my mother.”

“Fair enough. Where did you get the last one then?”

“Alice got it for me.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Alice was an old housemaid, ‘let go’ a number of years ago for ‘attitudes that made her unsuitable for Royal employment’. At the time, Fitz had thought it was because of her habit of smoking in the library while working and helping herself to the dinner table leftovers. Now that he knows more, he thinks that maybe sneaking pregnancy tests to a young princess Jemma might have also had something to do with it.

“Well,” he sighs, cogs in his mind turning over and over again. “Who else is there? Daisy?”

Jemma shakes her head. “Oh, absolutely not. The American Ambassador’s daughter buying a pregnancy test and then conveniently going straight to the Palace? It hardly looks good.”

“I feel like that’s a bit of a stretch, Jemma.”

“Is it?” She raises an eyebrow. “Anything involving Daisy and I never stays away from the press for long.”

He’s about to protest and then remembers an incident involving what was supposed to be a secret Tesco trip and a worrying amount of Tequila. The newspapers had run with it for weeks. “Fine, then what about Bobbi?”

“Chief of Security of the American Ambassador’s household?”

“Okay, alright, no one attached to the Embassy.” He holds up his hand. “Well, who else is there?”

They run through everyone in their friendship circle who could do it without being linked back to either of them but at the end of it all the metaphorical list is still very much empty.

“This is ridiculous,” Fitz says, sitting down heavily on Jemma’s bed. “There has to be someone.”

“Well….” Jemma bites her lip. “There is one person we haven’t mentioned.”

Who haven’t they… _Oh._ His eyes widen as he realises who she means and he shakes his head vigorously. “Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. We can’t ask him.”

“Why not? He’s rather perfect if you think about it.”

“He’s my _cousin._ If you’re looking for someone who’s not going to lead back to either one of us then he’s hardly the candidate.”

“But he’s also a journalist known for his views about the Establishment.” Jemma’s eyes brighten. “Nobody would ever dream he was helping us.”

Fitz has to bite back a smile. “You’re making it sound like he’s helping us get away with a crime rather than just buying a pregnancy test.”

“In a way I suppose he is, if you think about it,” she says, but then shakes her head quickly, as if to say that she doesn’t want him to comment on it. “You have to admit that he’s better than anyone else we’ve thought of.”

Fitz sighs so deeply it’s a wonder he doesn’t exhale his lungs straight out of his body. “He won’t like it,” he warns.

“We can give him something,” Jemma waves a hand as if it’s the least of their problems, which he supposes it is. “Inside scoop, isn’t that what they say? The fact that my mother uses sleeping tablets or something.”

Fitz doesn’t mean to scoff but he can’t help it. “He’s more looking for confirmation to the rumour that your family tried to orchestrate the murder of the Prime Minister back in 2005, not that your mother is a fan of Nytol.”

She chews on her lip and it’s a minute before he realises that she’s actually seriously thinking about it. “I’ll see what I can get him.”

“You can’t be serious? They’ll wonder where that’s come from.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Only this does.”

Well, when she puts it like that it’s not as though there’s any choice to be made. Her. For ever and for always.

“Fine,” he says, dramatically pulling his phone out of his pocket and holding it out to her. “But you have to ask him.

“Fine,” she says, snatching the phone from his hand and walking over to the other side of her admittedly very large room. “I will.”

-x-

It takes a surprisingly little amount of cajoling on Jemma’s part, and due to her hushed tones Fitz has no idea what she says to him, but he agrees to go and purchase several pregnancy tests and will text Fitz with an address not far from the palace where he can pick them up later.

“If anyone looks at my phone they’re going to think I’m doing some sort of dodgy drug deal,” Fitz says, once Jemma hands him his phone back.

She just shrugs. “Isn’t that the perk of having powerful fathers? They can make that kind of thing disappear.”

“Mine wouldn’t. Well, he would, but I’d owe him my life afterwards.” He looks up at her. “Though suppose your family just does it automatically now. Bet they’re pretty good at making people disappear too. Like, for instance, the Prime Minister?”

“Nice try, Fitz,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back against her dressing table at the foot of her bed. “But I don’t know any more about that than you.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth.” He narrows his eyes. “You could be in cahoots with them.”

“You’re so dramatic. As if I could ever keep a secret from you.”

“Pft, you managed to keep the whole pregnancy scare with the Duke of Essex secret from me.”

“We thought it for about thirty minutes five years ago! I forgot about it!”

“ _We?_ Who’s _we_?”

“Alice!”

“Oh. Right. But still. You should’ve said something.”

“I apologise, Fitz. The next time I think I’m pregnant with the Duke of Essex’s baby, you’ll be the first person I phone.”

“… you’re not funny, Jemma, I hope you know that.”

“The Duke of Essex used to find me hilarious, I shall have you know.”

“Alright, enough,” Fitz groans, cradling his head in his hands. “You win.”

Jemma’s eyes sparkle. “I wasn’t aware we were playing a game.”

“Oh weren’t you just?” He blows out a breath. “How long did Hunter say he would be?”

The smile falls away from Jemma’s face. “I don’t know. An hour. Maybe two.”

_That long?_ Is the first thing in his head, but he doesn’t want to say it, because he’s actually grateful for another hour or two to process everything that’s happened since half past eleven this morning. He nods. “And uh, how are you feeling about it?”

Jemma sighs. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“Yeah, otherwise we never will.” He shoots her a look. “Will we?”

“No, I suppose we won’t.” She comes to sit next to him at the foot of the bed, and he scoots along so that she sits down in the place he once was, the space he has kept warm.

There’s a minute or two of nothing except their breathing echoing around this cavernous space. He knows he shouldn’t have the disdain for the room that he does – he has rooms like it himself in both his mother and father’s houses – but it seems so ridiculous that one person has this kind of space in their bedroom alone. A bedroom that could house at least four families. His cousin’s nature is rubbing off on him it seems.

Jemma nudges him gently on the shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He turns to her. “Bet you don’t.”

“You’re thinking that this is a ridiculous space to have for just one person. That there are entire families trying to survive in the space of my bathroom alone.”

“And if I am?”

“You’d be right. It is ridiculous.” She suddenly looks very anxious. “I don’t have any say in it.”

“I know you don’t,” he assures her. “It’s this life. It’s what we’re born into.”

“Exactly.” She chews her bottom lip. “It’s all such a bloody mess.”

There’s a change in her voice. It’s slight, but it’s there, and it tells him that she’s not just talking about the Establishment anymore.

“A baby would make it so messy,” she continues. “My family would be so mad, of course, but I don’t mind that, really. Even me just thinking makes them mad. No, it would be everything else.”

“Such as?”

“There would be no hiding it, not for very long. I’m unmarried, which is quite the scandal. My parents would have to let us marry but the way it would have to be done would be a dead giveaway, that there would be no point.”

His momentary elation and them finally getting to have their relationship out in the open is gone as quickly as it came. He understands what she means with an alarming comprehension. The quickness they would have to get engaged, get married, and announce the pregnancy wouldn’t fool the press or the public in the slightest. And while it may be the twenty-first century, it’s a country where they like their royals to do things properly, and if they don’t then the shame of it haunts them for the rest of their life.

“And really, when I think about it, it’s not even that.” There are tears gathering in her eyes and she doesn’t go to swipe them away. “They’d be the heir to the throne just like I was – am. I don’t want them to grow up like I did, always feeling that phantom weight of a crown you’ll one day have to wear.”

Fitz, for a lack of anything to say, reaches out and takes her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. She squeezes back tightly, knuckles going white.

“But then, if I forget about all of that, I think about the baby we would have. _Our_ baby, Fitz. We’d get to be a family. And it’s almost like nothing else would matter except that.”

He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “We’d figure it out,” he murmurs against her skin. “You know that, right? We’d figure it out.”

She tilts her head to the side and smiles a watery smile. “I know we would,” she says, voice barely there. “I just wish we didn’t have to.”

He pulls her to him, lifting his arm up to allow her to tuck herself in at his side. “We could leave, you know,” he says into her hair. “Just go away and not come back.”

“We could,” she says, snaking her arm around his back and holding on tightly. “Where would we go?”

“We could go up north. Scotland. Further. Shetland.” As he says it he sees a picture of it in his mind, the life they would assume up there, so far away from everyone and everything they’ve ever known. It’s his most secret daydream, one he won’t share, has refused to utter aloud even to her in fear of it getting tainted with reality. Now, though, it feels as though there’s a possibility to make it something he could have, something that he lives not only in his mind. “You’d like it there.”

Jemma hums. “Would I?”

“Yeah, you would.” He is aware his voice sounds very far away. “We both would.”

She sighs. “It’s a good dream, Fitz. But it’s just a dream. We both know that.”

“I know,” he says, even though he wishes he were slightly more ignorant.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, leaning against each other, breathing in time as though they have all of it in the world. It’s as though everything else doesn’t matter when he’s with her, and he realises that, if he were able, he’d stay like this, exactly as they are, forever.

Then his phone beeps.

Jemma removes her head from his chest, looking up at him. “Did you put that on loud deliberately?”

When he’s with her he usually does the opposite, the reason being that there’s nobody more important than her who would contact him on it.

“Yeah.” Awkwardly, he reaches into his pocket and brings it out. He knew before he looked what he was going to see but it still makes his stomach sink to the bottom of his shoes. “It’s Hunter. He’s got them.”

“Oh. Right.” He watches as she rearranges her face, a reflex at this point. “Well, I suppose you should go then.”

“I suppose I should.” He swallows. “You going to be okay?”

She gives him a brave smile. “I suppose I’ll have to be.”

He hesitates. “Jemma…”

“No, no, on you go.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “We shouldn’t keep Hunter waiting.”

And he knows they shouldn’t, but he still really doesn’t want to leave, and he waits until the last possible second to separate himself from her before he goes.


	2. and we'll take on the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your kind and lovely comments on part one! I hope you enjoy this last bit <3

He meets Hunter at his desired location, which turns out to be the holy grail of ‘dodgy back streets’. Fitz didn’t even know such a street existed in this part of the city, but he supposes that, if anyone were to know of its existence, then it would be his cousin.

“Right, mate,” Hunter says, looking left and right whilst bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Got your stuff.”

“You need to relax a bit,” Fitz says, trying to bite back a grin. “You look like we’re in the middle of doing some drug deal.”

“That’s what it feels like,” he grumbles. “Should’ve seen the looks I got getting these.” And he unceremoniously shoves a white plastic carrier bag into Fitz’s hand.

He peeks inside. “No bloody wonder you got strange looks,” he hisses. “Looks like you’ve got all the pregnancy tests in London in here.”

“Well I know how Jemma feels about being thorough,” he says defensively. “I got all the different kinds I could find. The strip kind and the digital kind and this fancy one that tells you how many weeks you are, all that. Thought it might be useful.”

Though he moans and complains about him, because quite often he is a pain in the arse, Fitz realises that Hunter might just be his best friend.

“This must have cost you a fortune.” He pats his pocket. “Let me-”

A hand appears on his arm. “Don’t want your money, mate.”

“Are you sure?” Then he sighs because Hunter wouldn’t say it if he wasn’t sure. “Alright. Thanks. I’ll get Jemma to give you the info you want. Just be careful with it though, yeah? I know your cause is important to you and all that, but Jemma’s important to me.”

Hunter shakes his head. “Don’t want that either.”

“What?”

“Look, you’re important to me, alright? And Jemma’s important to you so therefore she’s also important to me. You’re family and she’s family and I don’t want paid for helping out my family.”

“Hunter, I-”

“Jemma’s decent,” he interrupts. “I like her. I think she’s pretty good for what she is.” He smiles. “This one’s on me.”

Fitz has no idea what to say. “Thanks,” is what he chooses. “But you know Jemma’s going to want to pay you in some way, right? She doesn’t like taking things for free.”

Hunter considers this, smiling as he does. “Got to respect that,” he nods approvingly. “I’ll take the thing about the sleeping pills. The rest, well she can just keep that for a rainy day.”

He nods again and goes to leave, but Fitz puts a hand on his arm.

“I really appreciate this. Jemma will too.”

“Anytime.” Then he grins cheekily, in that way he has been apt to do since they were children. “Love ya, mate.”

“Yeah,” Fitz smiles, Hunter already walking away, the next words said to his retreating form. “Love you, too.”

-x-

“Do you have the next one?”

“Yeah.” Fitz hands her the next pregnancy test through the half-open door. “Fancy digital one coming up. You still alright to keep on going?”

“I drank quite a lot of water whilst you were gone,” she says, and he smiles at the defensiveness that the absurdly thick bathroom door does nothing to filter. “So I am adequately hydrated to… _use_ all of these tests that your cousin so needlessly bought.”

“He was being nice,” Fitz laughs. “Thought you’d appreciate the thoroughness.”

“Oh, I do, Fitz. I really do. I’m touched he thought of me. I’m just not entirely sure that we needed twenty-four tests when one would tell us the same thing.”

“You’re not sure we needed them but you’re using them?”

He hears her pause and enjoys the momentary high ground. “Well, you do repeat for more reliable results after all. What’s a result if it’s not reliable?”

“What is it indeed,” he mutters, holding another brand around the door. In a louder voice he asks, “You do realise there’s no point of me standing out here while you’re in there? It’s not like there’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Fitz!”

“What? I’m just saying. It’s like you’ve forgotten how we could possibly be in this situation in the first place. Or do we need to have the chat about how babies are made, Jemma?”

“It’s different and you know it! I’m not going to have you stand in the corner and watch me pee on twenty-four different sticks.”

“I’ve seen you pee on worse.”

“Fitz!” Her horrified gasp echoes around the room. “We agreed we would _never_ bring that up _ever_ again.”

“I’m just saying I’ve seen it!” He holds his hands up in defence even though she can’t see. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Ugh, Fitz. You’re the worst, you know that? The utter worst.”

“But you love me really?”

He hears her huff and grins to himself. “Of course I do. You just don’t need to be so infuriating about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.”

There’s the flush of a toilet and the whoosh of a tap and he realises that, in all of their bantering, he’s forgotten the real reason why they’re doing all of this in the first place. Looking to his left, he sees where the white carrier bag sits, deflated, and knows that they can’t postpone it any longer.

Jemma comes out of the bathroom, wringing her hands. “I’m done.”

He nods, swallowing a few times before he’s able to get the words out. “Yeah, okay. Alright.”

“I didn’t look.”

“No, I know you didn’t.” They’d agreed beforehand that she wouldn’t. “You ready?”

Jemma laughs shortly. “Would you blame me if I said no?”

“Never,” he assures her. “But we’ve got to do it at some point.”

“I know, I know.”

She looks down at the ground briefly, and when her eyes meet his once more they are shimmering. His heart aches in his chest, and he knows that, however hard this is for him, however scared he is, it’s going to be a thousand times worse for her. He just has his own head on his shoulders. He doesn’t have to worry about the weight of a crown.

“Jemma…” he begins, waiting for her to focus on him. “You know that, if this is… if it is positive, then we’ll do whatever you want to do, alright? Whatever you want.”

She smiles tearfully but shakes her head. “No, Fitz. Whatever _we_ want to do.”

Whatever he wants will be whatever she wants, he already knows. He’s hers, hook, line and sinker. Now and forever. But it’s not the time nor place to try and voice these impossible feelings now. So instead he just nods, a small _okay_ to ensure an agreement he won’t have to make.

“So,” he inhales deeply. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She holds up a hand, which he grasps firmly. “Unstoppable together?”

“Unstoppable together,” he confirms, and, as though they were going to fight demons instead of simply turning over some pregnancy tests, they push open the bathroom door and walk inside.

Twenty-four pregnancy tests are lined up neatly on the counter, face down to hide the truth. Jemma reaches out to touch the first one before jerking her hand back as though it has burned her. She grasps his hand so tightly it begins to turn white and, in silent understanding, he reaches out for the test she had been about to take and, with shaky hands, turns it over. Both of them take the most tentative step forward to see what it has to say, reading the result with baited breath.

_Negative._

Fitz turns to Jemma but her face has nothing in it. “False negatives are highly more likely than false positives,” she says flatly, her hand still having a death grip on his own. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Good job Hunter bought a few more then,” he tries to say lightly, but his throat feels tight. With a hand that is just as shaky as before, he turns over the next one.

_Negative._

He looks at Jemma. Her eyes are no longer blank now, a little fear has leaked in. “Turn over another one,” she requests, and her voice is nothing more than a whisper. He does as she asks.

_Negative._

Both of their foreheads pucker at the same time, and Jemma’s grip on his hand loosens but does not abate entirely. She reaches out, too, and turns another one over at the same time he does.

_Negative._

_Negative._

Suddenly, seized by some desire to _know_ , they turn over the other tests in a rush, as though they’re playing some bizarre game. It’s as though they’re looking for an answer, even though the truth is right in front of them. They’re looking for the golden ticket, one of these things that is not like the others. Something that would give them hope that their life would be their own and they’d be free to have it in a way they never have been before.

The last test is suddenly in front of them, unturned. Jemma squeezes his hand before she turns it, but he already knows what it’s going to say.

_Negative._

There was supposed to be relief, but instead there’s just a cold disappointment, a feeling of loss for something they never even had in the first place. Jemma lets go of his hand and steps back away from the counter.

“Well,” she says, but her voice is not as steady as he knows she would like it to be. A tear begins to pool in the corner of her eye. “That’s that then, I suppose.”

-x-

“It wouldn’t be a good time to have a baby anyway.”

“I’m quite aware of that, thank you.”

There’s no bite in her voice, though, just a weariness as though she’s aged ten years in the ten minutes she’s been leaning against her bedroom wall. He’s sitting on the foot of her bed, and he can’t remember how he got here.

They sit in silence for a bit, the bronze clock on Jemma’s bedside table ticking away, filling the space between them. She shifts, pushing off the wall and coming to sit next to him, resting her head immediately on his shoulder. He leans his head against hers but says nothing, just enjoying the weight of her against him, a memory flashing through his head of a time not that long ago where he never thought he would feel this again.

“It would have been a nightmare,” she says after a little while, “but there was still some part of me that wanted it to be positive.”

“I know,” he sighs, resting a hand on her lower back and beginning to rub in slow, comforting circles.

“I don’t know why, really, why I suddenly want it so much. It’s not as though this is a good life.”

“You’d be a good mum, though.”

He can feel her surprise. “Oh, come on, Fitz. It’s hardly like I have brilliant role models. When I was three months old, my parents went on an eight-week tour of the Caribbean.”

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss into her hair. “You’d be better. Learn from their mistakes and all that.”

“Mistakes?” She snorts. “I could spend my whole life and never get to the bottom of this family’s mistakes. It’s the crown, is what it is. That’s the biggest mistake of them all.”

“And you know that. And it’s what would make you a better parent than any of them have ever been to you.”

“Maybe,” she allows, but doesn’t fully concede. “I think that, one day, I’d just like the chance to try.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue. He wants to swear up and down, left and right that one day she’ll have that chance, that he’ll give it to her. He wants to make all sorts of idiotic promises, all sorts of grand declarations in front of her, wants to write them down in his own blood as proof of how much he means it, as proof of the fact that he loves her so much he’d cut his own heart out if she asked him to.

But he can’t do that, because things spoken out into the universe have a tendency not to come true and he couldn’t bear to disappoint her. He hopes she knows, regardless.

“Let’s go away, Fitz,” she says suddenly. “We never did take that holiday after my-” _assassination attempt_ is what should follow but he’s grateful she doesn’t let it. “After what happened. Let’s do it now.”

“Sure,” he says, easy, because this is something he can give her. A marriage, a baby, a quiet life where nobody knows their names – he can’t give her them, not yet, but he can give her a holiday. “Where do you want to go?”

She laughs, he feels her head bob with it. “I feel this is an instance where dreams clash horribly with reality. Where could we even go?”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” he says into her hair, his hand still on her back. He means _I’d take you away from this life in a heartbeat. I’d take you somewhere they’d never find us. Just say the word and I’ll do it, Jemma, I’ll do whatever you want._

“Anywhere?” Her voice is hopeful, oddly amused, as though he can’t promise that.

“Anywhere,” he confirms. It’s a challenge. “Any place. Any time.” His entire life is her, anyway. “Just say the word.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, a happy belated birthday, Ruth, and I'm so sorry it took me so long <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - I hope you enjoyed this! Please feel free to leave kudos/comments. Please feel free not to. Either way, I hope you have a lovely day and are managing to stay safe and well in this insane world <3


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